Jessie lay in the darkness, listening to the snores of her friends. She was used to falling asleep in uncomfortable positions, but tonight anxiety about getting off the mountain alive was keeping her awake. She felt responsible for the other two; not only because she was the leader, but because they seemed so vulnerable. They were like the little brothers she had never had, always tagging along, whining, being a nuisance, messing things up. And, like an older sister, she would have bitten off her tongue rather than admit how much she really loved them.
Something was digging into her hip. It was James’ bottle-cap, which she had stuffed into her pocket. She brought it out and held it carefully, running her fingers round the edge. Soon she fell asleep, clutching the bottle-cap tightly in her fist.
James’ stomach kept insisting it was hungry. He told it there was nothing to eat, it would be fed soon, be quiet! The third or fourth time he woke up, he couldn’t stand it any more and crept out of the igloo into the snow.
Coupled with his hunger was a gnawing feeling of self-hate. What had Jessie called him? Wimp, that was it. The latest in a long line of insults. Well, he deserved every one of them. Look at how he’d behaved today. He’d been hopeless! Whining, giving up, not knowing what to do when poor Meowth was unconscious, acting like a headless chicken when his hands got frostbitten. He’d been more of a nuisance than a help building the igloo too. Without Jessie, he knew, he wouldn’t have survived their two days and nights in the snow. And how did he repay her? He gave her his lucky bottle-cap. Pathetic. He’d have liked to have poured diamonds and rubies into her lap, gone down on his knees, torn out his heart and presented it to Jessie still beating, saying "I love you! Take my heart!"…Hold on, where on earth had that come from?
James was taken aback by the sudden strength of his feelings for Jessie. Was it just because she’d saved his life? No, he’d felt like this a long time (he realised, idly crumbling snow in his fist) – he’d been too cowardly to admit it, even to himself. And if he couldn’t admit it to himself, how could he ever tell her?
He began forming snowballs and hurling them with all his strength at a pointed rock, where they exploded with a soft piff. Staring dumbly at a handful of snow, he thought how Jessie had told them she used to eat it as a child. Her mother would model snow into the shapes of sushi and pies and doughnuts, all the delicious, expensive food they never got. Poor little Jessie! James, brought up in the lap of luxury, couldn’t imagine what it must be like for a child to go to bed hungry. Well, OK, he had some idea now…
He gulped the snow out of his palm, closing his eyes and trying hard to pretend it was a delicious ice cream. Strawberry, perhaps. Or pistachio. He crawled back into their shelter and curled up away from Jessie so he wouldn’t disturb her. Thoughts of her began to mingle with thoughts of different ice cream flavours as he drifted off to sleep, until his last waking image was of Jessie smiling, holding out her arms…with an enormous chocolate ice cream cone in each hand.
Why was it so dark? Jessie wondered when she woke. The luminous dial of her watch said it was almost nine. Staring sleepily about, she realised that a fresh snowfall in the night had blocked the entrance to the igloo. She scrabbled frantically at the snow with her bare fingers, like a Growlithe digging up a bone. At last a chink of light appeared, then she broke through the icy crust and was rewarded by a piercing gust of chilly wind. She retreated into the shelter, nursing her numb fingers. The sudden scare on top of her uncomfortable night and the exertions and worries of yesterday left her feeling cross and headachey, and she scowled across at James and Meowth, who had slept through the whole thing. James was cuddling the cat Pokémon in his sleep, and as Jessie watched she heard him murmur "Nice Growlie - good Growlie - you’re soo sweeeet -"
Jessie felt a lump in her throat as she watched her two friends. She could never let
James know how much she loved him – he would lose all his respect for her. She would
no longer be able to control her team; James and Meowth would laugh in her face if they
knew how weak she was, if they realised she was capable of emotions other than anger.
"WAKE UP!" she bellowed, blustering to disguise her feelings. Meowth rocketed up, scratching James’ face as he sprang away. James sat up and blinked owlishly at Jessie, his hair in a morning tangle. Jessie softened instantly. I can’t go on yelling at him like this, she realised. I don’t want him to hate me. She couldn’t bring herself to apologise, but she offered an explanation: "I’m cold," she complained…
James sighed. Why was she always so angry? Maybe she didn’t even like him. Because he was such a wimp. The thought was more than he could bear…
They looked awkwardly at each other, eyes locked together. "Dear James,"
thought Jessie. "I will stop being mean to him."
"I won’t be a coward any longer," decided James. He gulped and said calmly to his partner: "You’re cold? Come over here with me." He held out his arms.
Jessie blinked. Now she was the one who was afraid. Cautiously, like a wild animal fearing a trap, she crossed the cramped space on hands and knees. Did he really mean that? she asked herself, stopping a couple of feet away from him. Did I really say that? wondered James, then Is she going to hit me?
Trembling, eyes closed, braced for rejection, they reached out for each other. Hands touched, then squeezed. They hugged, gently. Then they were pressed as close together as they could get, Meowth watching them with a surprised half-smile.
And it wasn’t cold anymore. Ever again.
By Agent 99
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Pictures courtesy of shywolf